Cowards
by falling into heaven
Summary: Being scared of caring doesn't make you a coward. But being scared to act on that does!" Everyone is afraid of something, but it's what we do with that fear which defines us. Flack is forced to confront his feelings for Jess. CH5 UP
1. The Triangle

**Title**: Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "Being scared of caring doesn't make you a coward. But being scared to _act _on that does!" Everyone is afraid of something, but it's what we do with that fear which defines us. Flack confronts his feelings for Jess, and things don't go according to plan.  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: This begins after 5x10. I might continue this, but bear in mind this is not fluff. It's not sweet and not everything will stick to the actual events of CSI:NY. After all, it _is_ a drama...

* * *

Jess sat back in her chair, her stillettos resting on the casefiles heaped on her desk. Though, in her defense, most of them were Flack's that he'd dumped during one of his many clean-outs, and then been called away before he could finish. But her own DD5's were calling, and she really should have been working on them, otherwise as Tash always told her, they'd be there on Monday morning, with an angry Captain stood next to 'em. But at 9 o'clock at night, she just couldn't be bothered. The only reason she was staying was because she intended to corner Flack and force him into explaining just what he meant to do by kissing her then never bringing it up again.

She hadn't told Tash about _that_. No, the other homicide Detective would tease her mercilessly. She already took great delight in pointing out their flirting to her at every available moment. There was no need to give her extra ammunition.

Just when she had given up hope, he strode in, looking tired. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Angell replied with a smile, leaning back into the chair.

"What're you doing here so late?" He frowned, glancing around at the near-empty squadroom.

She narrowed her eyes. "Waiting for you."

"Oh."

Something in his tone of voice caught her. "Oh?"

"Jess... I know what you want to talk about."

_Of course you do, _she thought tiredly. _What you don't._

"I promise we can, it's just Danny called, and wants to tell me something. Can this wait?"

"Well, it has for about three weeks." She muttered, half to herself. Before she could do something drastic, Angell stood up and pulled on her jacket, standing up quickly. "Alright. See you whenever then, I guess."

Flack watched her leave guiltily. It was partly that Danny had asked him to meet at Sullivans, and partly because he just didn't want to talk. He'd deliberately stopped himself from getting involved with her for a whole year - allowing himself a casual line here and there, but nothing that meant irreversable change. Nothing that could risk both their careers. Though the repercussions on him for sleeping with a partner would be substantial, it wouldn't be as bad as it would be for Jess. She'd have that as a permanant blot on her record - trying to sleep her way up the food chain, as the supers would see it. Kissing her had been a stupid moment of weakness, and he didn't want to do anything about it.

Not because he didn't like her.

Because he _did _like her. He needed to protect her.

* * *

Danny smacked the pool cue against the ball, sending it spinning into the hole. Flack groaned internally, thinking his fifty bucks was lost for sure. By now he should know better than to bet on the outcome of a pool game where Danny was involved. "So..."

"So."

Hawkes leaned back against the table, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is there something you gotta say, Messer? You've been jittery all day."

The CSI ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair making it stick up every which way, biting his lip. He was clearly in the middle of an internal battle, and to be frank, Flack couldn't be bothered with all of it. He'd prefer to be sat on his couch watching Letterman and eating a steak than stood in a bar watching Danny whoop his ass at pool and worry over whether or not to tell them of something that was probably of little significance.

"Lindsay's pregnant."

_Okay, maybe not so insignificant, then._

Hawkes had unfortunately just taken a sip of his beer, which was promptly spat back out at this surprising bit of news. "She's _what_?!" He choked, gasping for air as the liquid entered his lungs.

"Pregnant," Danny repeated with a hint of disbelief in his own voice. "She told me a week ago." He rubbed his jaw. "Uh-huh. I'm, ah... I'm gonna be a dad, I guess."

Flack slapped Danny on the back, feeling strange. He was happy for his friend, it was just that there was a strange bubbling emotion in his chest. And it wasn't the ridiculous amounts of beer and potato chips he'd consumed since his entrance to Sullivans an hour and a half ago. He guessed Stella with all her psycho-babble would claim that he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol to forget his screw-up tendencies with women; he either hooked up with them and broke up with them, or he let the one (well, one of a select few) woman that he truly cared for get away to avoid her worming her way into his heart, just for him to let her down.

He doubted he'd ever get the chance to have what Danny was going to have. Not in this lifetime, anyway. And Flack had little faith in the afterlife, either.

"That's brilliant, Dann-o. You'll make a great dad." He congratulated the smaller man, forcing a grin.

Despite the happy daze Danny seemed to be in, he could tell there was something wrong with his friend. "Ok, spill. What's up?"

Don glanced up, looking surprised. "Huh?"

"Well, you've not yelled at me for knockin' up Montana yet. Or made some joke. Something's wrong."

Hawkes turned to the homicide detective. "Look, we might be able to help!"

Rolling his eyes, Flack leaned against the pool table. "Look, Danno's just told us he's having a kid, and you want to dwell on my problems? Get outta here. C'mon! So, a kid? Jeez... Danno, you had _better _not screw this up."

Danny glared at him. "Bullshit, man. Either tell me what the hell is going on, or I'm gonna pour your guiness over your head."

Don glowered, silently pleading with Hawkes for help, to no avail.

"C'mon, Don. Whatever it is..."

"Girl trouble." He replied shortly, in a tone that suggested he was less than willing to say more. Not that this would deter the investigators he foolishly called friends.

"Flack, you go through girls like Adam goes through test tubes. You keep 'em for what, a few weeks? Devon was your longest relationship, and she lasted what, two or three months? Since when do you have girl trouble? Commitment trouble maybe..." Danny smirked, leaning against his pool cue.

"You were the same before Montana!" Don objected, but shut his eyes briefly. "Fine. I... I like someone. I am _not _naming names, so don't even bother. But she... is _so_ not my usual type. Really, not at all. But God, it's like... we were friends, then something changed. Not much, but enough to notice. Then... we kissed, and now... I can't. I can't date her, because I always screw it up. Always. And I _can't _mess her around."

Hawkes studied his friend's face. His expression was genuine, mild pain flickering across his face, but a look of resignation in his eyes. He genuinely cared about her, but he'd also given up any hope of anything coming of it. "Does J- _she _feel the same?"

"Um... hell knows." Flack shrugged, taking a long drink of his beer.

Danny grinned. "I take it professionalism is an issue?"

"No ides what you're talkin' 'bout."

Hawkes shook his head slightly at Danny, who tried to hide a snigger. Of course they both knew who he was talking about, but in his current frame of mind, telling him that would be like poking a rattlesnake with a large stick. Bad idea. "Look, man, if you want my advice-"

"Never asked for it."

"-You'll go to her place, tell her how you feel, and why you've been behaving like an ass, then let her make her own mind up. She's smart, she'll make the right choice."

With a sigh, Flack nodded and drained the last of his drink. "Okay. She might shoot me, but still. Thanks, guys. And... congrats, Danno. You and Linds. Do me a favour though."

"What?"

"Marry her. You'll get why soon enough."

Keaving a mystified Danny and a chuckling Hawkes behind, Flack grabbed his jacket and set off, in the opposite direction to his own apartment.

* * *

Jess was glowering at the Doctor Who re-runs. Stupid doctor. Bet he didn't have the hassle of really, _really _wanting to get something going with a co-worker, who didn't reciprocate those feelings. Stupid doctor, who didn't have anything to worry about other than keeping Rose happy. He thought juggling a cute assistant and the pressure of having to save the Universe was tough? Live her life for a month and he'd be begging for the damn Daleks.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. She stood up, her navy blue hockey socks (incidently the exact same colour of the NYPD t-shirt she was wearing) sending her skidding across the hardwood floor, cursing all the while. Her grey sweatpant slipped slightly, the only giveaway that she'd lost weight recently, largely due to excessive double shifts, overtime and totally unecessary and unwanted heartache. She'd got home, changed into her current attire, tied her long brown hair into a ponytail and crashed out in front of the TV. Now, someone was rudely interrupting that.

She opened the door to see Flack stood outside, a sad smile on his face. "Lindsay's pregnant."

Jess was mildly surprised, as she folded her arms. "Whoa. Okay... okay. So... why are you here?" she asked, wondering why the hell he needed to come over and tell her. She wanted him here, but she didn't want him here. Besides, Lindsay would tell her friend herself the next day.

"Um... I'm not - I... I've been a complete ass for thye past few weeks. I kissed you, not the other way around. I shouldn't have behaved like this. It's just... I don't want to hurt you, Jess. I care about you more than you can imagine, and I have a tendency to screw up relationships. I don't want to do that to you. Plus, I outrank you, so if anyone found out... He trailed off, searching her face for a reaction.

She stepped back. "Come in. Beer's in the fridge."

He helped himself, before turning back to her. "I... I kissed you without finding out if you wanted me to, if you were okay with me doing that, But... I took advantage of you, of you trying to help me." "

"Don..." she took a few steps closer, so the gap between them was only a few inches. "Ever stopped to think I took advantage of you? Maybe I realised you were hurting, maybe I had a feeling something like that would happen." Jess shrugged, her gaze holding his steadily. "Maybe I wanted it to happen."

Flack half-smiled. "Jess, you know me better than anyone. You know me better than Danny, than Mac, than Stella... You get why I end up in so much shit, you _get _it. So you should know by now that getting involved with me would be stupid, because I am not a dating kind of guy." He sighed, moving past her to lean against her kitchenette counter. "Jess, you'd risk people finding out, being passed up for promotions, being laughed at, people accusing you of trying to sleep your way up the grades, trying every step of the way to split us up."

She shrugged, a sullen look crossing her face. "Who gives a damn what the likes of Vicaro and Thacker think? We're adults, we can make our own decisions." An angry look replaced the sullen one quickly, her face darkening. "Hey, it was _you _that started flirting with _me_! _You _kissed _me_. Not the other way round. So maybe, if you didn't want something to happen, you shoulda thought of that!"

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda." He muttered, before taking a step closer and resting his hand against her upper arm. "Jess, don't for a moment think that I don't care about you, okay? I do, more than you realise. You're my best friend, and God you are so beautiful, and smart, and funny... And the reason I'm trying to say no, is because I want to protect you. Don't you realise? If I was doing this for me, I'd have been halway to your bedroom the first time we met."

Jess folded her arms defiantly. "I can take care of myself."

"I wish I could believe that." Don whispered, his eyes filled with sadness. "But you're more breakable than you'd like to think, and I could push you over the edge."

"I can live with that!"

"I can't." He sighed, leaning forwards and pressing a light kiss to her cheek. His lips lingered on the soft skin, drinking in the scent of her shampoo. But the contact was broken as he pulled away and headed for the door.

She watched him go, fury bubbling inside her, like fire coursing through her veins. Nobody got under Jessica Angell's skin. No-one. And Flack was no damn exception. So why the hell did he think that reacting like this, behaving like this was okay? It just plain and simply pissed her off. There was no way he was going to walk out of that door and not mention this little event again.

"Coward."

Flack froze, his hand on the door handle. He noted the harsh tone of her voice, and spun around to face her. There was a cold fury in her eyes as they blazed brilliantly. "What?"

"Coward." She repeated angrily, fists clenched.

He laughed disbelievingly. "Oh, so I'm a coward. How d'you come to that conclusion then?"

Jess glared at him. "Because you're not scared of staring down the barrel of an AK47. You're not scared to be shut in a cell with a murderer. You're not scared to shoot someone. You're not scared to be shot at."

Confusion swept over him. "So... that makes me a _coward_?"

"But you _are _scared of feeling something. Not happy when the Rangers win, or amused when Danny says something done, or pissed off at a child molester... You're scared to feel something significant. You were scared for Danny, when he was fucking his life up. You were scared for me, when I went undercover with Suspect X. You were scared when you thought your sister was in trouble. You were scared when you kissed me. Don't think I don't know, Don. Because you said it yourself, I know you better than anyone." There was a flicker of pain and hurt in his friend's eyes as she continued on her rant. "You're scared, because you feel something for me. You're scared because we might mess this up. You're scared because you might lose me. You're a coward, Don Flack."

Flack glared at her. "Oh, so caring makes me a coward? Is that what kind of twisted world you live in?"

"No!" She yelled. "And being scared of caring doesn't make you a coward. But being scared to _act _on that does!"

His eyes narrowed. "I'll show you cowardly."

She wasn't afraid as he crossed the short space between them, looking like he wanted to hit her. She was just... mad. And the anger didn't disappear when he kissed her. No, the entire kiss was filled with rage. His lips crashed down onto hers, and it was nothng like their previous kiss. There was nothing tender, or thoughtful about it. There was no thanks involved, more like one giant 'screw you'. His hand knotted into her hair, the other arm locked around her waist, holding her against him. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh. There was a flash of pain, as he sucked her bottom lip furiously, and heat as his toungue caressed hers. He tasted of beer, she noted for some reason. Their mouths moved in synchronisation as they poured their anger out into each other, the feeling slowly fading as he softened his hand, cupping her neck. They leaned into the kiss, desperate to avoid coming up for air. Because if they came up for air, they risked breaking the spell. They risked having to go back to real life.

Eventually, the need for air overcame them. They broke apart, breathing heavily as their foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry, Jess. But I'm too much of a coward." Flack whispered, his voice heavy with regret. He brushed away the tear on her cheek and kissed her once, briefly on the lips before turning and leaving as abruptly as he'd arrived.

Jess watched him go, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks. Her entire chest ached, longing for him to just hold her. Just enough to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that she would survive. She'd never been in love before, but she thought she was now.

And she hated every second of it.

* * *

Love it? Hate it? Want me to continue? Drop me a review, please! Also, am happy to accept constructive criticism.

Anna.


	2. Help

**Title**: Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "He allowed himself a moment, just a moment to allow himself to be with her, instead of fighting it. But it was a moment, nothing more." Jess gets a bump to the head, and Flack gets the big freeze. Not an altogether successful day.  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: 5x12 this time. I skipped 'Forbidden Fruit' because I was in the school library and got told off for swearing at the screen thanks to a severe case of writers block. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone that reviewed, and I'll do my best to keep updating regularly. Feel free to PM me if I'm slow ;) Also, on a tangent, here are some TV thoughts:

a) behind the times, but anyone GUTTED about Renee dying on 24?? I loved her!! But absolutely ADORE Annie Wersching - she's mental, but so cute.  
b) Anyone see Chase TOTALLY check 13 out in 'Knight Fall' of House? I'm a C13 shipper!!  
c) Tony, Ziva... Obsession... dude, she's into you! Reciprocate already, man!

Okay, I'm done. Honest. But this is for the REAL Jess, my bestest friend and possible future polititian...

* * *

"Angell." Mac spoke quickly over the phone, simmultaniously thumbing through the sheets of bloodwork a tech had handed him on the way past, trying to fathom out the chemicals in the victim's blood. Although he was more than adequate at keeping up with Sid and the other autopsy gremlins, sometimes trying to instruct a colleague and make sense of the ridiculously long names could be trying, to say the least.

"Yeah, Mac." the female detective replied tiredly.

Mac noted the defeat in her voice, and knew instantly tht it had nothing to do with the case. There was more chance of Flack becoming celibate than there was of Jessica Angell giving up on a case just because things got a little tricky. No, it just made her more determined and forceful. Something she'd told them jumped to the front of his mind;

_We dod what we do because they can't do it themselves. We give them a voice, some justice._

No, this defeat was nothing to do with the case. And although Mac had a cardinal rule about getting involved about the personal lives of his staff (excluding Stella, and Danny or Lindsay since her was Godfather to their child) he'd made a single promise to Cliff Angell when the friendly Detective Sergent had informed him that his daughter was joining the NYPD; he would protect Jessica. And so he allowed himself to wonder. The rumours around the NYPD precincts - perticularly any where Martinez was stationed - raced faster than Usain Bolt on rocket fuel, so he was well aware of the scuttlebutt regarding a certain two Detectives stationed a the 12th Precinct, and wondered what Flack had done this time.

He knew that Flack refused to date anyone who worked within, with or anywhere _near _the NYPD, partly out of self-preservation, partly out of fear of screwing things up... his track record with women was less than exemplary. To be perfectly honest, the guy moved through women at the rate of knots, so it was only fair that he kept a certain level of professionalism with any woman he worked with, again excluding Lindsay and Stella. With Lindsay, thy teased each other mercilessly, yet Mac knew the younger man would go to the ends of the earth to portect his best friend's wife, as well as her being his own confidant and moral compass from time-to-time. And with Stella... the two were as unprofessional as possible. They went out of their way to tease, taunt and irritate each other, all the while remaining good friends and mischeif makers.

But with Angell... there was definatley the potential for things to turn in another direction altogether, as he knew for a fact that Flack thought she was attractive (in his words, 'sexy as hell'), charming ('face like an angel, an' she knows how to use it'), intelligent ('a goddamn wiseass') and professional ('if I'm not careful, they'll demote me and give her _my _job!'). That, combined with her ability to both drink him under the table and outsmart/outsnark him at any given oppertunity, Mac knew there was a very good chance that Flack could fall head over heels in love with her. The situation was, to quote his Marine Sergent, a total SNAFU.

"Mac?" she prompted down the phone line.

"Yeah... could you grab Flack, and pull Trey Fegar in for questioning?" he replied, not allowing his thoughts to cloud his tone.

"Yes." She replied curtly, confirming his concerns. Flack had done something, alright. Though God only knew what.

* * *

"Don." Jess called, pulling her jacket on, her face completely neutral.

Flack glanced up, surprised she was using his first name. She'd not spoken to him whatsoever since the incident at her apartment, so to hear her call him by the name she used to, when they were alone made him smile involuntarialy. "Yeah?"

"Mac called. We need to pull Trey Fegar in for questioning," she replied quickly as she clipped her holster onto the waistband of her jeans. He tried desperately to ignore the way the hem of her shirt rode up an inch, exposing the smooth, soft skin of her him and abdomen, almost pleading with him to touch. But no, he had some control. Besides, he was mad at her.

Because she'd made the decision, long ago. She probably didn't even remember.

_"What, you've never dated a co-worker?" Flack asked incredulously, swigging his beer._

_Angell laughed, pushing her curly hair away from her face. "No, Don. I like to stay professional."_

_He studied her, the strange temp-turned-permanant cop transferred to his unit, with the pointy boots and badass-attitude. Was she really as poker-straight as she seemed? God knows she didn't cut corners, or break rules. But... bend the unimportant ones? Nothing wrong with that, surely. "Not even the cute guy in the store you worked in when you were fifteen? Never sneakily made out with him in the back room when the boss wasn't looking?" he teased, leaning closer._

_She smirked at him. "Not even the cute one who thought he was irrisistable." came the immeadiate response. "No. I'll never date a co-worker, not even if I really liked him. It's just... one of my rules."_

He'd come to realise she had many rules.

Don't make fun of her boots

Don't mess up her desk

Don't adjust the settings of her seat

Don't smoke around her

Don't challenge her to a drinking contest. You'd lose.

He could feel the anger bubbling in his veins, in much the same way as it had at her apartment. He was mad at her. She was blaming him for trying to protect her, personally and professionally. She could pretend to be as tough as he liked, but it didn't change the fact that if she dated him in any capacity, she would get hurt, one way or another. She was being selfish expecting him to be able to live with that.

"Sure. Subway?" He pulled out his own weapon, struggling with the clip. It'd been giving him trouble, and now the safety catch was caught on his belt. He sighed in frustration.

"Yeah." she watched him for a moment, before stepping closer. "C'mere." Jess adjusted the holster with ease, allowing it to sit flat against his hip. Her fingers skimmed against his waist, her eyes adamantly avoiding his.

"Thanks," he murmured, fighting with every ounce of self-control he posessed. The close proximity of her face to his, the simplest movement it would take to simply close the gap, admit defeat...

But in a second, she'd moved away, heading out of the squadroom, car keys in hand. He followed her immeadiatley, hating himself for what he was doing.

"That's him." Jess pointed towards a small man with long brown hair, strumming his guitar with a look akin to that of a stoned guy. Flack nodded, taking his hands out of his pocket. Although the chances of a confrontation were slim, he was going to be prepared. He needed to be prepared.

He glanced up as the pair approached, slapping his hand against the front of the guitar, grinning at Jess. "Detective Hendrix..."

Jess was having none of his shinanigans. "Trey Fegar, you're under arrest-"

She was unable to finish the arrest as he tossed his guitar off, throwing it at her partner. They sprinted after him, and Jess cursed her choice in footwear, wishing to God that some time soon she could just learn to love sneakers of some sort. The crowds were a problem for them - it was nearly rush hour, so people were milling around left, right and centre thanks to New York timing, so trying to manouver through the throng of people proved to be less than simple.

"Move!" Flack yelled, forcing onlookers out of the way as Jess sprinted through the gap behind him. Trey headed for the subway train, pushing a woman over as he went. Jess skidded, slamming into the said of the car, her head smacking against the metal. The shockwave ran through her body, sending a shudder through her nerves. Her head throbbed, but she stood up, her legs aching with the effort and ran on, in time to see Flack take Trey down. He lept off the platform, throwing one arm out in midair and tackling Fager, knocking him against the stone chippings on the track. Her heart thumped furiously as she watched them in shock, almost losing her balance and falling herself. Relief flooded over her as they both landed, nothing seeming to be broken.

"You stupid idiot!" she glared at him. "Isn't that redundant?"

"Not with this guy!" Came the short response.

Jess wasn't totally sure why she was so pissed off about the way Flack had tackled Fager. It wasn't that she wanted the glory; she'd long-since earnt her jockstrap, and she liked this coat, didn't want to get it ruined doing an unecessary tackle. It shouldn't have been that she was concerned for Flack in anything other than a professional sense - he was her partner, sure so it was important that he was healthy in order to watch her back, but she shouldn't care for him, want him to be safe...

But she knew in her heart that she still cared. He had lead her on, made her care, broken her heart and she still _cared_. She wanted nothing more than to make him see, see what he'd done to her, see how she couldn't look at another man without immeadiatley comparing him to Flack, seeing how much she preferred her partner, effectively killing her love life. He'd let her believe that they had a chance. _He'd _kissed _her_. She was _mad _at him!

So why did she care so much?

* * *

Jess rested her head in her hands, trying desperately to ignore the dull thudding rattling through her skull. Every movement ached. She didn't know that subway cars were made of such tough material, but evidently they were. A lump had already formed, and she immeadiatley regretted her decision to skip the pharmacy on her weekly shop - she'd initially made the incorrect presumption that she would avoid getting injured on the job, at least for a week. But Murphy's law had kicked in, and now she was pissed off _and _in pain.

All she wanted was to go home, curl up on the couch in front of the TV and watch old re-runs of Friends with a glass of wine. Instead, the reality that faced her was three hours of unpaid overtime finishing off case reports and DD5s regarding the entire, messed-up case which would undoubtedly make her headache a whole lot pen was sat on top of the untouched pile of forms, all awaiting her concemtration, which was, sad to say, lacking.

Her procrastination was cut short by the tingling sensation she got up the back of her neck when someone was watching her. She turned round to see Flack approach her, his face filled with concern. "Jess, you okay?"

"Well, my head hurts and I've got a pile of paperwork as big as you list of ex-girlfriends, but other than that I'm peachy." she shot back, irritably.

He let the jibe wash over him, his expression remaining in place. He'd suffered much worse in the past, and no doubt Jess would try step back up her game at some point to get back under his skin, but at the moment, she was tired. He wouldn't provoke her. "You should go home, get some rest."

She shook her head. "Can't. Too much to do."

He paused for a second. "Okay. Come to the lockerroom. _Come on_." He insisted, seeing her reluctance.

With a sigh, Jess stood up, following Flack through to the lockerroom. She stayed her distance, leaning against her locker as Flack opened his own. He rumaged around the clutter for a short while. Jess kept her locker stocked with various essentials; aspirin (usually), band-aids, pepto-bismal, mints, tampons, a fresh change of clothes, gym clothes, basic make-up and whatever else she might need at work. She knew Flack kept more or less the same (other than the make-up and tampons, thankfully) so he was probably looking for painkillers for her

She was trying to stay mad at him, to remind herself of why she was so damn angry. He'd led her on, then broken her heart. That was reason enough. But slowly, se could feel the anger dissolving, she could feel the flutter in her chest as Don leaned over, handing her two pills with a slight smile. She swallowed them dry, having had a little too much experience with the drug to require a drink.

"C'mere." Flack touched her head gently. She flinched, but stayed still. His hands brushed gently over her scalp, his fingers sweeping her hair away. She relaxed at his touch, allowing herself to close her eyes for a spell. It reminded her of when he kissed her. Although the sensation on his lips on hers, the way his eyes bored through her own, the intensity of the moment were all vivid memories, the thing which she could _feel _the most was the way his hand looped around the back of her neck, his fingertips threading through her hair to rake lightly against her scalp, squeezing gently. It was intimate in a non-intentional, non-conventional way.

"Doesn't look too bad... it's a bit swollen, but nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." he murmured, his chest close to her face.

Jess jerked back to reality, a sadness washing over her as she realised that the chance to be with Flack would have to be sacrificed if she wanted to keep her career. Her entire chest ached as she faced him with her jaw set, but he could see the fear and heartbreak in her eyes. She was trying to hide it, that much was clear. But suddenly, she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips. Hers were smooth and soft against his, her hands resting against him shirt front. He allowed himself a moment, just a moment to allow himself to be with her, instead of fighting it.

But it was a moment, nothing more.

He pushed her away gently. "Jess, we can't."

Tears began to form in her eyes as she battled with herself. "I know." she whispered, her heart aching. She turned, taking a shuddering breath before walking away, not wanting Don to see her heart break and her resolve crumble a little more.


	3. Rush to Judgement

**Title:** Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "It's not so bad for you. You're a guy, you're first grade in the homicide squad with the highest arrest rate in our precinct, and your dad is Donald Flack. But me... I'm third grade, transfer from Jersey City, a _girl_... It's not so simple." The IA interview puts more pressure oin Flack and Angell's already strained relationship.  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: Urgh! Midst of horrible exams, and I messed up last chapter. Mac is not tolerent of hearing about Danny and Lindsay's problems on account of their kid being his godchild, as aforementioned kid is still a foetus. Bear with me, I don't think sensibly.

* * *

Jess sat in the interrogastion interview, her arms folded purposefully. While she understood that IA had a job to do just like anyone else on the force, it seemed to her that they took a little too much pleasure in it all. Her interviewer faced her with a superior smirk on his face, half-leering in a way that Vicaro could learn a thing or two from. She raised an eyebrow. "I presume that at some point, you plan on actually questioning me?"

He smirked a little more, leaning forwards, his forearms resting on the desk between them. "Detective Angell, can you describe the incident as you remember it, please?"

Jess nodded. "We - Detective Flack, myself and Todd Flemming - entered the precinct, where there was a problem with a serial felon named Cadillac Kligman. He was resisting arrest, so I suggested that Flack took Mr Flemming through to the interrogation room. Once they were out of the room, Mr Kligman jumped on some of the desk, and begun assaulting the officers trying to arrest him, so several Detectives, including myself, drew our weapons and got him down on the ground. That's when I heard Detective Flack shouting that he needed assistance and an ambulance in interrogation."

Lt Bruce Jackson nodded, scribbling something down in his notes. Jess smirked. If he was anything like her, he was either doodling, or weighing up the odds of Rangers winning the hockey the following night, since the interview was being recorded anyhow. "How would you describe Detective Flack as an officer?"

"He's one of the best." she replied immeadiatley, not needing to deliberate. "He's compassionate, a good investigator, fair, reasonable and he has one of the highest arrest rates in our precinct."

"Okay." Jackson nodded again. "And as a person?"

"A person?" she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. IA never asked about personality types. It would be like Mac basing his plans on a horoscope. "What do you mean?

"Is he good to work with? Friendly? Rude? Arrogant?"

_D, all of the above,_ Jess thought tiredly. "Um... he's a good Detective, so by default he's good to work with. I learn a lot, he's dependable, reliable... he's friendly, but still professional."

"Do you trust him?"

"With my life." she answered automatically. It was true. Although there was many a time when she felt like jamming her Glock into the moron's gut and emptying the mag, she still entrusted him with her life and wellbeing.

"Detective Angell, do you think that Detective Flack is capable of killing Todd Flemming, accidently or otherwise?"

"No."

Jackson sighed, and leaned forwards. "You and Detective Flack first approached Todd Flemming when he was at wrestling practice, correct?"

Jess had her poker face fixed in place, trying not to get tired with the repetition. "That's correct."

"And what was his demeanor?"

"He was fine." If the IA were going to keep asking her pointless questions which she'd already answered, what the hell was the point in her even staying on the investigation? Surely they would all be better off if she could just get back to her job.

"Did you notice any... injuries, when you picked Mr Flemming up? Bruises?" Jackson prompted, his voice striking a note in Angell's mind. Why the hell was he asking about bruises? Surely the moron didn't actually believe that Flack had _hit _Todd Flemming.

"No." Her answer was curt and honest.

"Was Detective Flack ever alone with him? In the car, maybe?"

She kept her tone neutral. It was a trick she'd learnt young, at home. When he father had discovered something out that she regretted, if she kept her tone completely neutral, he was unable to tell if he was lying. So if it worked with her father, she had no doubt that it would work on some IA detective with a bad attitude. "I drove, Detective Flack sat in the back with Mr Flemming. We were together the entire time."

"What about at the school? Flemming was in his street clothes at the time of his death, I'm assuming he changed somewhere."

"In the lockerroom."

"And who accompanied him?" _Damn_. Now she could see where this one was going.

She shifted ever so slightly in her seat, tilting her head to study Lt Jackson. He was a small man, slightly overweight with a slightly disparraging look in his eyes. She could tell that he looked down on standard NYPD Detectives - a side-effect of woking for IA, along with a slight head-up-butt tendency. "Detective Flack."

"Detective Flack." He repeated, scribbling down a note. _Probably reminding him to do his dry-cleaning_, she thought crossly.

"Look, Detective Flack did everything by the book. the guy's a total professional."

"Unlike your relationship with him, which I understand is... less than professional."

An anger bubbled through her. Not only was that wrong, but totally cruel. If she wasn't gonna get the guy, she should at least not have to put up with being put through the rumour mill as well. She glared at Jackson, her temper now limited. "Not only is that none of your buisness, but it has _nothing _to do with Todd Flemming's death."

He nodded. "Thank you, Detective Angell."

Jess watched as he switched the tape recorder off and sighed. "Detective Angell, I'm going to be honest with you now. Detective Flack is in a lot of trouble right now. Lt John Malley's heading the investigation, and he's a hard-ass. If he thinks that Flack's guilty... if Flack gives him any rope at all, Malley'll use it to hang him with."

Jess caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Something he wasn't saying. "What?"

"Angell... there are... rumours going around about your relationship with Flack. I'm not saying that I believe them, or that you'd lie for him, but realistically? Your statement won't count for much, if anything. You'll be credited as unreliable, so your statement won't help him."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, silently cursing every single senior officer that she could think of, starting with Flack. "Thanks, Jackson."

"Watch your back, Angell." he warned her, holding the door open for her to pass through.

* * *

Jess scanned the squadroom, finding that her limbs were trembling slightly with the adrenelin and anger. Her eyes focussed on Flack, sat rounded in his pathetic excuse of an office chair, looking pissed off. For a moment, she felt herself soften slightly. Flack was getting screwed over by the brass, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. But in the end, he'd gotten her screwed over as well, for no good reason. So she didn't feel too bad for him.

"You're looking at the newest member of the rubber gun squad." he informed her bitterly as she approached, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I've been officially removed from active duty."

Darting a brief glance around, she dropped her voice low enough so that only he could hear. "Care to explain why I've just been grilled by IA about our _relationship_?" she asked, unable to prevent the word 'relationship' from slipping out dripping in disdain and irony.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Yeah. IA just snidely implied that I'm sleeping with you, which quite clearly I'm not."

"Look, Jess... no offence, but I've got bigger things to worry about right now than squadroom gossip." he sighed, giving her a look that was both self-pitying and sympathetic which she supposed was meant to be kind, but unfortunately came out looking horribly patronising.

"Lockeroom, now." she glared.

Jess was well aware of several eyes cast their way as they hurried through to the lockeroom. She and Flack - before the unfortunate and wonderful kiss incident - had been close, even for partners. They were frequently caught about town together, which had obviously sparked some rumours. Though she had been able to brush them off, she was now all too aware of the smirks and raised eyebrows being tossed in their direction. It made her skin crawl as she quickened her pace, putting space between them.

After a brief check of the room the ensure that they were indeed alone, Jess turned to face Don, a thunderous expression on his face. He paused for a split second before sitting down on the bench between the two rows of lockers. "Look, Jess... I'm sorry. I know you hate being in the rumour mill, but I don't know what you want me to do about it. You know what they say - protesting's as good as confessing. I don't see why this is a big deal-"

"A big deal? Flack, do me a favour - don't try reduce me to some shallow little bitch trying to get in your pants, whining all the while. This is a two-fold. One, my statement now means squat with IA, cos they're convinced that I'm lying to protect you. Two, I want to know how the fuck people have guessed something's going on!" her voice had raised a little, anger and hurt flaring in her eyes.

Flack sighed. "Jess, I'm not saying that. I'm not. It's just... I don't really give a damn what people think about us. Whatever's going on, it's _our _buisness, not theirs. It's nothing to do with anyone else, so Martinez and Maka can gossip like tenth graders, and I wouldn't give a damn. Yes, your testimony meaning jack is a pain in my ass, but it's not the end of the world, okay?"

She relented slightly, her face softening slightly. "It's not so bad for you. You're a guy, you're first grade in the homicide squad with the highest arrest rate in our precinct, and your dad is Donald Flack. But me... I'm third grade, transfer from Jersey City, a _girl_... It's not so simple. And for rumour to fly around that I'm sleeping with another officer, let alone one that outranks me... It's just another reason for the brass to pass me up for a promotion. It might not mean a lot to you, Don; you've earnt your stripes. No-one questions you being here. But this is bad for me."

Don thought about this for a moment. Jess was not the type to show weakness. Any problems, any personal dilemmas, any bad boyfriends, she'd deal with it all herself. She kept her distance, shut herself off. In all the time he'd known her, she'd only truly let her guard down once.

_Don picked up his mobile, glaring at Danny who was laughing drunkenly, at an otherwise un-funny joke. His friend had invited him out for 'a couple of drinks' then decided to get totally wasted, leaving F;ack to ensure he got home safely. The case had been successfully solved, having found that the killer of the restaurant owner to be a cockroach fanatic with a sideline in murder. He needed _some _form of relatively sober company, so decided to call Jess, who had also solved her case, though hadn't looked altogether pleased with herself as she usually did. In fact, she'd mumbled something about a headache and gone home, ignoring his offer of company. He dialled her number quickly, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Jess, you want to come for a drink? Danny's a bitch when he's drunk, so it'd be nice to have some company." he offered._

_She sniffled on the other end, her voice sounding thick and quiet. "Uh... I'm... No, not tonight, Don."_

_The happiness disappeared as he heard her sobbing quietly, the sound distorted by her hand over the mouthpiece. "Jess, what happened?"_

_"Th-The case... shouldn't b-bother me, b-b-but..." her voice trailed off, sending Flack's heart down into his stomach. _

_"I'm on my way. I'll be ten minutes, tops." He glanced at the bartender - a friendly man named Frankie, an ex British Special Forces guy who resembled a refridgerator on legs. "Yo, Frankie... I'mma call Danny's girl, 'cos I gotta take off. Can you make sure he stays on the damn stool 'till sh' gets here?"_

_Frankie chuckled at Danny's placid features. "He's not started whining like a bitch yet, so sure."_

_Flack dialled another number. _

_"Monroe."_

_"Hey, Linds." he greeted his friend cheerfully._

_"Hey, Don. You alright?"_

_"Yup. But, ah... I gotta take off - friend o'mine needs a shoulder. Your boyfriend's plastered, so would you like to come get him, or should I dump his ass in a cab?"_

_Lindsay didn't even bother wasting his breath denying her relationship with Danny. Don had been teasing them both for about a year, and she knew better to argue with him about it. "I'm on my way."_

_"Take care, hun. Buh-bye." he hung up, grabbing his jacket. "Thanks, Frankie." Don faced Danny, gripping his shoulder. "Messer, listen t'me. I called Montana, she's on her way. Stop drinkin', and behave like the gentleman I know you're not, okay? No monkey buisness, else I'll kick your ass."_

_Danny beamed. "Lindsay! My pretty pretty Lindsay. She's my Montana, Donnie."_

_"Uh-huh. Bye, Danno."_

_Flack was able to hitch a cab and get to Jess' in seven minutes, taking the stairs two at a time. Damn her, for living on the fifth floor of a walk up. Damn the brass for not paying her enough to live in a place with an elevator. He didn't bother knocking, just took the spare key from behind the fire extinguisher which he knew she stashed, and let himself in._

_And his heart broke. _

_Jess was curled up on the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. her shoulders were shuddering as she sobbed uncontrollably, her eyes red and her face streaming with tears. Her t-shirt hung limply from her shoulders, her sweatpants looking too big for her. She looked so fragile, so breakable that Don felt physically sick. Then he begun to hate himself. Because even though she was hurting, she was still one of the most beautiful people he'd ever met. _

_"Jess." he whispered as she glanced tearfully at him. "C'mon, what happened?"_

_"She was a baby, Don." Jess replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Six frickin' years old. Pretty as Linds, with big brown eyes an' curly hair. Th' bastard her mom brought home while she was pissed outta' her mind came back while she was gone - babysitting, he said - raped her, Sid said 'bout four times. Sh' musta been terrified, Don. then he stabbed her, thirteen times 'n the chest. She was just a baby! She didn't do anythin'!"_

_Don sat down next to her, wrapping a thick arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly against his chest. He could feel her tears soaking through the thin material of his shirt, but he didn't move, just holding her tightly, stroking a hand through her hair. "It'll be okay, Jess. I know it's hard, and I know it's unfair. But you did that little girl proud, 'kay? You got the bastard. You did her proud."_

_He pulled her round so that she was sat in his lap, her face buried into his neck. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo - vanilla, if he was correct - and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Her small hands bunched up the front of his shirt, trying desperately to grasp at some sort of control. But Flack didn't care. He merely held her until the sobs subsided._

_When she finally regained control, she faced him with embarassment. "Sorry, Don. I've got no idea what came over me."_

_He tilted her face up so her eyes met his. "Jess, there's nothing wrong with it, okay? You had a bad case. Don't think for a moment that cryin' over it makes you anything less than normal. Everyone does it."_

_She nodded, yawning. Her entire body was drained of energy, and she could barely be bothered to move._

_"Go to sleep, Jess. I'll stay here 'till you do."_

_She studied him for a moment, before nodding She trusted him._

"Jess, you deserve to be here. You're a damn good detective. IA are just causing trouble. After all, it's me that they doubt, not you. Just keep yo head up, okay?" he told her with a slight smile.

"Save the pep talk, Don. I don't need it. I'm pissed, I'm not doubting myself. And the _last _person I need telling me how goddamn freakin' awesome I am is the guy that-" she stopped abruptly shutting her eyes for a moment. She was Jessica Angell, NYPD Detective, bleeding blue, tough as old Russian Army boots. She was not going to fall apart. Not here, not with him. Taking a steadying breath, she opened her eyes to find Flack watching her, his eyes curious. "I'll keep working the case. I'll clear your name for you. But I do not need to take crap on your behalf."

He watched as she walked away. And somehow, he had the feeling that she was walking away from more than just the conversation.

* * *

Mac had been right. They had made it in time for the third quarter of the hockey. The Rangers were up by three, and the defense looked string so there was no fear of Ligning comin back and screwing them over. He sat at the bar, thanking Mac as he bought them both a beer.

"None of us doubted you, y'know." Mac infrmed him calmly. "Not Stella, no Danny, not Lindsay - who I should warn you, is quite hormonal at the moment - and definately not Angell. No-one thought you were capable of this."

Flack nodded, taking a long drink of the amber liquid. "It's just... it feels like even though everyone looks out for you on he street, when people doubt you in the office, there's no-on there to get your back."

"I know." Mac nodded. "You forget, I've been through the same thing, but even further. And Danny, all those years ago. We all know what you're going through, and we all know how hard it is."

Flack glanced up to see Jess sat in the corner booth, her eyes fixed on the screen. He didn't know she went to this bar; her regular was across the otherside of Manhattan. She had a beer in one hand, and had changed out of hework clothes into jeans and an NY Rangers t-shirt. It vaguely raised a pang of pride and sadness in him. Pride, because he'd converted her from being a devils fan after a two hour debate which developed into an argument, which Flack eventually won. She'd bought her t-shirt the next day. And sadness, because he knew that despite all his protesting, all his fears and doubts, that Jess was the perfect girl for him, that she was the one he wanted to be with.

Jess was fully aware of Flack's eyes on her. But she didn't move. No, if he wanted to talk, then he could come to her. She had made her move, and he'd dodged. If he wanted to move forwards, she wasn't going to be the one to put herself out there again.

She could feel his gaze on her, him watching her every move. But she could also see someone approaching her.

He was around six foot, with sandy blonde hair, slight stubble and smiling brown ease. His walk was laid back and easy, suggesting charm and self-confidence. He dressed casually, with an open shirt over a t-shirt and jeans. She put him at about thirty years old.

"My name's Sam." he greeted her with a grin. "I'm thirty one, I've neber been called a player in my life, I'm a fifth-garde teacher and my last relationship ended 'cos my girlfriend ran away with my best friend."

Jess recoiled. "Um... do I know you?"

"Nope. But I was gonna ask if you wanted a drink, an' I figured that it's best to get the basic questions over first."

She couldn't help but laugh at sam's brazeness. Then her eyes flitted to the bar. Flack was watching them, watching how close Sam was stood to her, watching her smile.

He turned away.

_Fine_, Jess thought angrily. _You want to give me up? Fine. _She smiled back at Sam, holding out her hand. "Jessica Angell. Want a drink?"


	4. She's Not There

**Title:** Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "She'd probably called him from her boyfriend's bed. And that bothered him. The thought of some other guy's hands on her, running over her skin, his lips on hers... It made him feel physically sick." Flack has to deal with Jess having a new boyfriend. Not any easy task for anyone involved, especially with a sex trafficking ring to deal with as well.  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: HEY! Okay, so after this chapter, I am ON HAITUS for 1 MONTH due to exams, etc. I won't be reading or writing fanfiction, or answering any PMs, so bear with me. Boy, I'm gonna miss it! Ah well. So, see you guys in about a month, 'kay? But still review. Cos I will check those!

* * *

Jess awoke slowly, wiggling her toes first, before stretching one arm across the lean body to her left. Sam shuddered slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening automatically round her waist. She traced a line over the scar on the top right of his chest - a scar from when he worked as a mechanic during his teenage years and college.

_You can't work around hot metal for five years without getting a scar or two_, he'd joked when she'd asked.

Needless to say, drinks had turned into dinner, dinner had turned into a movie, and the movie had turned into... something slightly less wholesome. They'd been dating for four weeks, and Jess was almost happy. Sam was charming, light-hearted and funny. He didn't mind when she came home and didn't want to talk about work. He didn't care that she sometimes shut herself off. He could handle it.

Her hand ran lightly over that smooth contours of his chest, moulding to every surface. He was well-toned for a teacher. Mind you, chasing ten year olds around all day would get anyone fit.

Sam opened one eye, smiling at her. "Can I help you, Detective?"

She slid over so the was laying on top of him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I think you can, actually."

He leaned up to kiss her, his hand lacing through her hair, the other resting lightly on her bare back. Jess leaned into the kiss, allowing his lips and tongue to take away her worried. His lips brushed down her neck to her collarbone, sucking at the soft skin. But she pulled away as her phone beeped loudly. "Urgh, sorry." She grabbed it off the nightstand, to find a text from Flack.

_Smuggling ring. Teenage girls being lured in and used as prostitutes. You available?_

She grumbled slightly before hitting the 'call' button. "Hey, Flack."

"Jess. We got about thirty girls, all aged between around fourteen and twenty-one, according to Lindsay's super-sluething. And they're drugged. Heroin, cocaine, ecstacy. We've got them all down at the hospital, but half of them don't even know their own name. We need to figure out who they are, where they're from and who's looking for them." he sighed. "I could really use you doing some background work for me."

"Uh, sure. I'm on-call anayway in a couple of hours, I'll just have a word with the Cap when I get in. It'll be about half an hour."

"I can swing by, pick you up." Flack offered.

She hesitated, glancing at Sam, who was now sat up, reading through some book reports that were supposed to have been marked the previous night. "I'm... not at my apartment."

"Where - oh." he stopped abruptly. "Right. Okay, see you when you get in."

Jess hung up with a sigh. Flack had pointedly avoided the subject of seeing her and Sam together, and had not asked her whether she was seeing him. And now he had figured out that she was sleeping with him. Great. It was sad, really. In all this mess, she'd lost her best friend. Gone was the guy who'd come to her apartment with a bottle of Jack and a movie to heer her up, or drag her ass out of the office when she was working too much. Now it was polite conversations reserved for case-related conversations only.

She missed him.

Jess got out of bed, pulling on her clothes from the previous night, wondering briefly whether last night's outfit of a pair of jeans and a sheer blouse was inappropriate work attire, she decided she didn't really have time to go home and change. Besides, she had a spare shirt in her locker anyway. Kissing Sam goodbye, she grabbed her backup weapon, slipping it into the holster around her ankle and leaving quietly.

* * *

Flack entered the lockeroom with a tired expression and an ache in his shoulder. God knows how, but he'd managed to twist it and now had a sadistic bitch to interrogate and a mountain of paperwork to get through. 'Katie', or whatever her real name was, was currently stewing in the interrogation room, under the watchful eye of Martinez. he'd offered to watch her, on account of needing to perfect his death-glare, as his teenage daughter's boyfriend was coming over for dinner at the weekend. Flack'd had no objections.

He strolled into the space between the two rows of lockers, and stopped abruptly as Jess peeled of her blouse, standing in just a sheer white bra. Her skin was soft and slightly tanned, with a black tattoo of a star on her left shoulder blade. He blushed, clearing his throat. "Ah, sorry. I'll come back in five minutes."

Jess turned around, her shoulder obscuring his view of anything he'd like to see as she grabbed her spare black t-shirt, pulling it on quickly. "No need, I'm done. So, you got someone in custody, then?"

"Some woman named Katie, or so she says. Poses as a penpal, lures a girl to the city, then gets her incapacitated somehow at a party, so the traffickers can take her." a dark look passed over his face. "they got thirty girls, Jess. Girls who just wanted to make friends, have fun in New York. How can someone just take advantage of them like that? Betray their trust? Force them to do those things? It's disgusting."

Jess approached him calmly. "Don, you got them out, okay? You saved them. Thanks to you, these girls can go home to their families, regain some semblence of normality." she looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Look, you can look at this one of two ways. you can either get all pissed off 'bout it, or you can interrogate that bitch 'till she breaks, write up the report and move on. And for what it's worth, I'd take the latter." she released him, and Flack held her gaze, smiling softly. "Thanks, Jess."

"Yeah, well." she shrugged, before leaving the room.

He took a deep breath. Flack was by no account stupid. He'd not gone to college, he didn't understand what the CSI's were talking about half of the time, but he was by no-one's estimation stupid. He was fully aware of the fact that Jess had been at someone else's house that morning, probably overnight. She'd probably called him from her boyfriend's bed. And that bothered him. The thought of some other guy's hands on her, running over her skin, his lips on hers... It made him feel physically sick.

But he had to accept it. If it killed him, he would accept it. He would be best man at their damn wedding, godfather to their children if he had to. But he would accept it.

With a sigh, Flack strode purposefully to interrogation where Katie was waiting. He signalled for Martinez to leave, slamming the door behind him. He turned to the young woman, sitting down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. "I want to know everything about your little trafficking operation."

Katie blinked innocently. "What _trafficking _operation? I was just meeting my penpal!" she protested calmly.

Flack slammed his hand down on the table. "Don't screw with me, kid! There are some things that really get to a cop. Maybe a child murderer, maybe a serial rapist... sex traffickers are the ones that really get me mad. And you helped them. You _lured_ those girls to New York and tricked them into trusting you. You used them, for what, exactly? Money? Or did you service the girls yourself?"

Katie recoiled, her expression perfectly shocked. "Service the - Detective, I have no idea how you've managed to get this far in your career if you jump to such absurd suggestions such as that."

Shaking his head, Flack tried to fathom the transition between the excitable twenty-something they'd arrested to the perfectly poised and professional young woman he was faced with. "Look. How about we start with the basics. What's your name?"

"Katie."

"Really?" Flack passed her a photo of her with Tara, another of the rescued girls. "I thought you went by Carolyn." Another photo on top of that. "Or Sophie." Another photo. "Or Melissa."

Katie paused, before leaning forwards. "My name's Rebecca Lewis. I'm twenty-three years old." she smiled, her eyes full of life, life she had no right to posess.

Flack nodded. "So, Rebecca. Why did you do it?"

"Money," was the simple answer. "They offered me money, cleared my loans and gave me a life in the city."

"Yeah, a life of tricking naive girls into becoming slaves." he pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose it could be looked at that way." Rebecca nodded, calculating his statement. "But on the other hand, they wore beautiful clothes, met new people, lived in the big city."

Flack glared at her. "Those girls were drugged with three of the most dangerous and addictive drugs in existance to keep them oiut of it long enough to do exactly what your 'new people' wanted them to do, not to mention that some of the girls were _fourteen_! Does that mean _nothing _to you?"

Rebecca shrugged. "We all have to make a living, Detective. I grant you that mine is slightly less... conventional than others, but it is a way of making money."

"Who runs this operation?"

"No idea," she replied promptly. "I only dealt with Andre and his boys. No-one else. Speaking of which, are you interrogation them? Because if not, I think you're being unfair and bad at your job, really."

"You are a sick, narrow minded, dispicable woman and I hope you enjoy being someone's bitch in prison." he spat, storming out. He'd had quite enough of her smartass attitude and snide comments, and was in serious risk of clocking her if he stayed in the room. And there was no way she was worth losing his job over.

* * *

Jess smoothed her hands over the smooth material of her dress, watching as the emerald satin caught the light, shimmering as she moved. It skimmed lightly over her hips to finish just above her knee, gathered in at the waist with a sweetheart neckline, supported by two thin spaghetti straps. Although she felt beautiful as she always did when wearing the dress, she was also nervous, as the particular restaraunt Sam had chosen happened to be a favourite haunt of the CSI's. She was by no means ashamed of Sam, or their relationship, it was just that there would have been a lot of explaining to do when Danny asked why she was not with Flack, as he had decided that the two detectives needed to be together. She didn't want to have to explain the fact that Don did not want her, didn't want to be with her.

She wasn't in the damn mood.

So instead, Jess sauntered over to Sam's table, dropping a light kiss on his lips. His breath tasted slightly of alcohol, and she figured he'd probably already started drinking, having a beer before her arrival. Figured. By the time she got off work, half of New York were usually wasted in some form or another. "Hey. Am I late?"

"Nope, just ordered a drink." he indicated to the half-drunk bottle of beer.

"Great." she smiled, sliding into her seat with a smile and waving the waiter over. "Can I get a glass of Merlot, please?"

The waiter gave her a casual once-over, before smiling. "Of course."

Jess shifted in her seat slightly, turning her attention back to her boyfriend. "So, how was your day?"

"Uh, y'know... went to school, taught some kids, made them laugh, made them hate me when I gave them another book report without grading their last one-" he mock-glared at her. "That bit's your fault, you know. I could make the kids hate you too."

"You were the teacher I used to hate." she informed him as she took a drink of her just-delivered wine. "Always setting homework, never letting up... yeouch."

"I'll get over it." he chuckled, before glancing towards the door. "Uh... Jess? Some people at the door seem to be staring at us. More specifically, you."

She winced. "Hmm, yeah. This is a regular haunt of my friends, some of the people I work with. That-" she twisted round to see Mac, Stella, Danny, a heavily pregnant Lindsay, Adam, and to her dismay - Flack. Stella beamed, waving at her. "-Yep. That's them." she told him calmly, waving back.

Sam grinned. "You wanna sit with them?"

"_No_." she said, maybe a little too emphetically. "Sorry, it's just I try to keep work and... personal lives seperate. If I don't..." she thought back to the look on Flack's face the second before he left her apartment a couple of months ago. "It's not... It's not good, anyway. So... no, I would not like to sit with them."

Sam shrugged. "Well, they're comin' this way anyway, so be prepared."

"Frickin' boy scout!" she hissed.

"Hey, Jess!" Lindsay smiled, her hand resting lightly on her baby bump, the other tucked into Danny's hand. "Who's the boyfriend?"

"Hey, Linds. This is Sam Matthews. Sam, this is Lindsay and Danny. And the one with curly hair's Stella, the tough looking shoirt guy's Mac, the blond-ish geek's Adam." she gave the vague introductions as the group greeted her warmly.

"And the other one? Good-looking guy, tall... looking light he wants to kill me?" Sam prompted with an easy grin.

Jess flinched. "Uh, yep. That would be Flack. Don Flack, my partner. He's an asshole."

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "Li'l harsh, Jess."

"Ask him about IA. Ask him about what happened after the McBride case, ask him about what happened after the serial rapist case." she murmured to him, her eyes filled with hurt and shame. "I've got every right to call him an asshole, Danny. Believe me."

"Okay," Danny replied, his voice so low that only she could hear. He bent low, kissing her on top of her head. "Enjoy your date." he glanced at Sam. "You take care of her, else I'll kick your ass."

Sam nodded. "I will. No worries."

**o()o()o**

Lindsay glanced across the table at Flack, seeing the apprehension in his eyes. "Don? You okay?"

"'M fine, Linds." he forced a smile, not allowing her in. Jess and her date were in his exact line of view, laughing and joking. It was hurting him inside, knowing that she should be with him, that he should be the one leaning across the table making a suggestive comment to her, causing a giggle to escape her lips and her to slap him gently on the arm at the same time. It should be him calling for the bill, pulling her into his arms, guiding her towards a cab. It should be him kissing her gently, offering her a drink back at his place.

But it wasn't.

Instead, the blonde haired pretty-boy was opposite her, making her giggle over her wine.

"Y'sure, Flack?" Stella prompted. "Anyhow, I thought there was... somethin'..."

"No." he replied shortly. "No relationships within the precinct, remember?"

"That's not an official rule." Danny said, pointedly wrapping an arm around Lindsay's shoulders.

"Well, it's as good as. Which means me 'nd Jess are not together. Not allowed to be, not going to be."

Stella shrugged. "Well, call me old-fashioned but I think that if you like someone, screw the rules and live in the moment. You of all people should know that life's too damn short to waste it with someone who's not right for you." she craned her neck to see Jess and Sam. "If I were you, I'd go over there, introduce yourself, make sure she knows you're interested."

"Stell, it's not that easy, okay? Besides... there is nothing going on between us. We're just friends."

Danny smirked. "Well, I wouldn't say you're friends, bud. She's sorta pissed at you."

Flack took a long drink of his beer. "Shut up, okay? Let me enjoy my steak in peace."

**o()o()o**

Jess pushed the steak around her plate, her appetite lost. She could feel Flack's eyes on her, watching her date. It made her uncomfortable, because it felt like whenever she looked up at Sam, she just saw Flack, she saw how he wasn't as good looking, as tall, as charming, as funny, as sweet or as wonderful as her partner. Sam deserved better than this. He deserved more than she could give him, he deserved someone who could love him for who he was.

Sam smiled gently at her. "Jess, it's okay."

She glanced at him. "You don't know that I'm going to say anything."

"I do. And it's okay. There's history there, right? Something that happened? Jess, you don't need to pretend, okay?" he gave her a kind look. "This is mutual. But life is too short."

Tears pricked at her eyes, forcing her to shift her gaze to her plate. "I'm so sorry, Sam. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Sam indicated for the check to arrive, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "Go. Honestly, it's fine. Go home, curl up on the couch and watch I love Lucy re-runs."

She chuckled, despite herself. "Thanks, Sam." When she got outside, it was dark outside, and she hurried down the street, whirling around to face Flack. She knew he'd followed her, she could smell his aftershave... the scent was burnt into her memory. "You couldn't leave me alone, could you?" she demanded, the tears threatening to break free of her eyes.

"Jess, I-"

"No!" she yelled. "I was _happy_! I _liked _Sam! He was _good _for me! But I couldn't breathe! Because you were looking at me, watching me! It's not _fair_! Why can't you just let me be happy, let me be with someone? You don't want me, so why stop anyone else from having me?"

He moved forwards, holding her in his arms as she broke down, the sobs wracking through her body. "You think I don't want you? Jess, you couldn't be more wrong. I do want you, more than you realise. It's just that we can't."

"Don't t-tell me it's f-for my c-c-career!" she growled.

"No..." he whispered. "It's not just that. I-I don't want to hurt you. Every girl I'm with, I hurt. And I don't want to do that to you. I _can't _do that to you. So... that's why. I mean, you're smart, sassy, funny... not to metion possibly the hottest girl I've _ever _met, so don't think I don't want you. Because that would just be dumb."

She nodded, her arms tightening around his waist. "Please... just don't shut me out."

He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. He wouldn't shut her out. She was the only girl who'd managed to get close enough for him to try shut them out. She was too damn good for her own sake. He just hoped that he could avoid hurting her without holding her at arms length. because the last thing in the world that Don Flack wanted to do was hurt Jessica Angell.


	5. The Party's Over

**Title:** Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "So what if we miss a few paydays? 'S not the end of the world! Meanwhile, people are being killed, attacked, raped... and you'd prefer to... what, exactly? Make your point? Damnit, Jess" The blue flu hits, but does Jess have it for real?  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: Only here for this, then back on holiday for a while. But once school starts, I'll be back! Honest! With Danny and Lindsay gettin' hitched!

* * *

The sun streamed in through the crack in the blinds, the breeze from the open window causing them to rattle against the 'sill. Car horns blared and sirens echoed around the bedroom, reverberating around Jessica Angell's aching head. She moaned as she opened her eyes, and shut them quickly again as she saw no empty bottle by her bed. Had she been hung over, she'd have taken an aspirin and told herself to get a grip, but now there was no justification for the pain that seemed to spread throughout her entire body, like fire was coursing through her veins down to her fingertips. Her inner body felt cold and she shivered violently, but her skin was hot and clammy, the bedsheets tangling up in shining limbs. Every muscle ached as though she'd run a marathon, and her sinuses felt shot to hell. A wave of nausea rose inside her like a tidle wave and she clamped a hand over her mouth, jumping out of bed, ignoring the screaming protests from her body.

She collapsed on her knees in front of the toilet bowl in time to empty her stomach contents, coughing as the acid stung her throat. Jess had felt a cold of some sort coming on over the past couple of days but she'd never expected it to morph into the 'flu. Bona-fide, kick-your-ass-'till-you-cry 'flu. She was hardy enough, living in the city. Her mom had allowed her to roll around in the dirt, build up her immune system... And now she was curled up on her bathroom floor, hurting.

She dragged herself back to her bedroom, cursing every word her mother had ever banned her from saying as pain radiated throughout her limbs, gritting her teeth with determination as she reached for her cell phone, hitting speed dial #3, dropping back onto the bed.

"Luietenant Sythe." came the brisk greeting of her CO.

"Loo... 'S Angell. 'M sick... 'flu." she rasped quietly.

There was a moment's pause. "Angell... if you're-"

"'M not makin' a point... I took the damn oath... not gettin' paid doesn't change it. 'M sick, okay?" she growled with as much assertian as she could muster in her current state.

"Sorry. I know you're one of the one's that do it for the honour. Alright, take it easy and come back when you're cleared by the doctor." Sythe sighed, no doubt developing a headache now that another one of his Detectives was out. Jess felt sorry for him. He was a fair man, with respect for his precinct and the work it did. None of them had easy jobs, but Sythe had stuck his neck out on the line on more than one occaision to support his team in a difficult or delicate situation which required more gentle handling than the Detectives of the 1-2 were prepared to use.

"Thanks boss." she hung up. He hadn't specifically said that she had to be cleared by a practising doctor, therefore she could easily get Hawkes to sign off on her, so she'd be back to work in a few days. She hauled her legs into bed, grabbing the bottle of aspirin from her bedside table and swallowing one gratefully. Trying to ignore the steady spread of burning around her body, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

Flack dropped his jacket over the back of his chair, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Kaplan's murder had come at the tailend of a double, which meant that he had been forced to put in more unpaid overtime, spending less time in the apartment he could barely afford to live in thanks to the pay freeze. He understood that pay disputes (thanks to tight-fisted beauracrats and over-zealous unions) meant that things got pretty hairy in the financial aspect of the NYPD for a while, but stopping everyone's pay was most definately _not _the answer. All it did was drum up support for the unions, and cause the 'blue flu' that had swept across the city.

The officers calling in 'sick' with the 'flu' annoyed the hell out of him. He had joined the NYPD and made the promise to protect and serve, and missing a few paydays did not counteract that. In his mind, being a cop depened on loyalty and ability, not how much cash you had in your bank account. His blood ran blue, and the cops that signed up for the paycheck clearly hadn't looked at their credit accounts lately, as it was hardly a substantial amount.

He was not surprised that Danny had joined the unofficial strike. Though the moron was Don's best friend, he also looked for any chance to irritate the brass thanks to his serious problems with authority. A quick glance round told him that only about a quarter of his precinct was off - which included, to his shock, Jess. There was no coffee cup in her trash, and considering the woman mainlined caffeine, that meant she hadn't been in when her shift should have started. This annoyed Flack. He'd thought Angell had the same ethic towards being a cop as he did, which meant hauling your ass to work regardless of some dumbass pay freeze.

Disappointment swept through him as the other cops around him carried on, trying to balance the steadiuly growing mountains of paperwork, additional cases and the lack of support when it came to the legwork. He drained the last of his coffee, dropping the cartonm into the trash as he sat down at his computer, loading up the relevant databases to trawl through the finances behind Kaplan's charity and it's fundraisers. If there was any cash unaccounted for, he could start building a fraud case which meant motive for the killing.

He typed in 'Stuart Kaplan' and waited for the results, before cross-matching the account details from various banks. Although on the surface all seemed in order, Flack was not the most computer literate - he was pretty much limited to database checks and Google. But he knew a woman who could de-crypt, de-code and de-whatever else any computer file he needed. Picking up the phone on his desk, he dialled the familliar number.

"Katie the incredible, how may I rock your world?" A woman's voice greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey, Kate." he sighed.

"Uh-oh. What's up, Don?"

"Whole damn NYPD's gone to hell." he growled, before shaking his head. "Nevermind. Can you work your magic on a few accounts for me?"

"You know it."

Katie Breckan worked at NYPD's tactical support, and was Flack's godsend. She also had Irish blood way back, though it was more apparant upon seeing her, with her deep red hair frequently tied back in an impatient ponytail and catlike green eyes. But she was undeniably brilliant, usually saving Flack's cases when Adam or Hawkes were on another case. She had somewhat dubious contacts that may or may not have been legit, as well as favours she could pull in from various federal agencies - though he dreaded to think what she'd done to warrant such favours.

"Okay. Stuart Kaplan, Deputy Mayor. He was strangled last night at his charity function, and I'm lookin' into all his accounts, finances and whatnot. But if I send you a couple of account details, can you check if they're legit for me, just, ah... find out if there's something there that would make someone want to kill him?"

"Send 'em over, honey." she trilled, before pausing a beat. He could hear the tap-tap-tap of he her keyboard as she opened up the account information. "Wow. Right now, _I _want to kill him. I mean... have you _seen _how much this dude was gettin' for his charity? An' he's just... givin' it away! Me, I live in a sixth floor walk up with a damp problem, a roomate on a fold out couch because there's one bedroom-"

"Call me when your done, Kate." Flack chuckled. Kate was completely neurotic at the best of times - one of the many reasons the pair were friends. They balanced out. He quickly dialled another number, equally familliar.

"_Hello?_" Jess answered the phone after a few rings, her voice cracking.

"Jess, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice down.

"_I have the 'flu, Don._"

"The hell you do. What's wrong with you? We took an oath, to protect and serve, Jess. So what if we miss a few paydays? 'S not the end of the world! Meanwhile, people are being killed, attacked, raped... and you'd prefer to... what, exactly? Make your point? Damnit, Jess... I thought you were better than these morons..." He ranted, growing steadily more frustrated.

"_Screw you, Don. I have the goddamn 'flu, okay? I've puked my guts up, and I do not have the patience to put up with your crap, okay? So do me a favour, and call me when you get a grip!_"

Flack stared at his phone, fuming. He would have loved to call her back and tell her exactly what he thought, but he had a mountain of casework, and was expecting a call back from Kate anytime.

* * *

Angell jerked awake upon hearing the buzzer in her apartment, signalling someone was waiting outside. It was one of the few security measures her building employed, and she was grateful for it, even if the oblivious Native New Yorker (not a common sight nowadays) in the apartment next-door-would cheerfully allow any old soul to enter... the woman had no sense of self-preservation or basic safety. It irked the homicide Detective.

She pulled herself out of bed, grateful that the aspirin had kicked in, though her head was nowhere near better thanks to her argument with Flack. Moron. Did he really believe that she would abandon her ethics and morals for the sake of a couple of paychecks? Idiot. She pressed the button on the intercom. "Yeah?" she croaked.

"Cut the crap, Jess. It's me. You sick? I'll give you a note!" The irritated voice of Hawkes floated through the intercom, causing her eyes to flutter shut.

"Fine. 'S your immune system. Doors unlocked, I'll be in bed." She shot back with as much venom as she could muster, before turning abruptly and crawling back into the tangle of comforters and sheets she called her bed. The door clicked open a few moments later, and she mentallly tried to prepare herself to do battle.

Hawkes rapped lightly on her bedroom door, before letting himself in. His face was furious, his jaw set. But his expression softened as he saw his friend's sorry state. He nose was bright red from blowing, her complexion sallow from being unable to keep anything down, and coughing non-stop. She was coated with a slight sheen, her shoulders shuddering as she shivered violently. "Oh, Jess. I'm sorry. I... I thought you were doin' the same as Danny."

"Danny? Oh, for God'ssake. I thought he'd grown out of the-" she broke off, dissolving into a coughing fit.

Hawkes nodded. "Yeah, do me a favour? Stop talking. Here. You got a themometer?"

"Bathroom cabinet."

He nodded, opening the cabinet, feeling slightly intrusive. On the shalves were various unopened moisturisers, shower gels, shampoos... a box of tampons and a box of condoms - opened, half-used... a basic medical kit, along with a thermometer. He garbbed it, shutting the cabinet gratefully. He knew Angell was an intensely private person, and he didn't want to disrespect this by snooping. He returned to the bedroom, glancing at Jess. "Open up."

As she sat with the thermometer in her mouth, Hawkes made her a cup of hot water with lemon in it. He would have preferred to give her tea, but he doubted she could keep anything down, and she already hated the drink. But she needed to flush her system with fluids to replace the ones she was losing. If she was in hospital, Hawkes would put her on a saline drip to rehydrate her as quickly and effectively as possible. But any hospital would just throw them out, should he even be able to convince her to go in the first place, which was unlikely. She was stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.

"Drink." he instructed, pulling the thermometer away. "102... yup, you've actually got the 'flu. Does your CO know?"

"Mhmm." She confirmed, laying back with a sigh.

Hawkes leaned forwards, kissing her temple lightly. "You want me to call Flack for you?"

"No." she replied stubbornly, an annoyed expression on her face.

He looked at her. "Jess, whatever's going on with you two, I'm not going to question you on it, but... he cares about you, and you care about him - I see it in your eyes. But you need to trust him."

"Whatdaya mean?" she asked thickly.

"You have trust issues." he replied simply. "You only get called by your last name, you refuse to let people help you, I didn't even know where you lived until a month or so ago, despite the fact that we have drinks practically every week, and I class you as a friend."

Jess shook her head, regretting the movement as it screamed in protest. "Urgh... no, I don't have trust issues, I have security issues. A lax neighbor and a super that never damn well shows up, so the less people that know where I live, the better."

Hawkes gave a slight chuckle. "Okay, but for future reference, I know of one Detective that it would do you good to let in the fortress you've built around yourself."

Tears built up in Jess' eyes. "No. No, you don't. You know a jackass that is judgemental and fickle, and doesn't deserve jack from me."

Her friend nodded, not wanting to press the matter further - he knew that doing so would simply result in injury. "Well, take it easy, Jess. Drink enough fluids and if I catch the 'flu, you're busted, 'kay?"

She nodded gently. "Thanks, doc."

"I'll let myself out, and slide the key under the door." Hawkes replied, before doing so quietly, and then pulling out his cellphone.

"_Flack."_

_"_Hey, it's Hawkes. Look, I don't know _what's _going on with you an' Angell-"

_"She's pullin' the damn 'flu." _Flack growled down the line.

Hawkes rolled his eyes, jogging down Angell's apartment steps. "Yeah, I thought so too. I've just been by her place to yell at her some, to find she's actually caught a bad case of the 'flu. Laid up in bed, can't keep anything down, pale as a ghost. So quit giving her earache and stop by, will you? She's a wreck, and she's hurting... not just cause of the 'flu."

"_...Damn. Uh, thanks, doc. An'... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like a jerk. Shoulda known Jess wouldn't pull this."_

"'S not me you need to be telling, brother. Later." Hawkes hung up before Flack could get into an argument. Lord knew he would. While the Detective was fiercely loyal and a good friend, he was also stubborn and blissfully unaware of his attraction to Angell, it would seem.

* * *

Flack stood outside Jess' apartment, breathing slowly. He didn't want to face Jess, to look her in the eye and see in her face how he'd hurt her, again. Something he'd _promised _himself he wouldn't do. He couldn't face her glare, the look that was so much more effetive than his mother's had been when he was a child.

But he'd been an ass, and had to accept the consequences. So he knocked, bracing his shoulders in anticipation for her wrath. he waited longer than expected, and when the door finally swung open, he let out his breath, tension easing from his body as he moved forwards, wrapping Jess into his arms. Her body was frail beneath the blanket and shivering slightly, his irked expression considerably more feeble than her usual.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, which still smelt like strawberries.

"I know," she croaked, too exhausted to argue.

Flack pulled her up easily into his arms, carrying her through to her bedroom. He laid her down carefully on her bed, pulling the comforter around her, going back to shut the door. He shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, before crawling onto the bed next to her, smoothing her hair away from her clammy forehead. "Go to sleep."

She eyed him nervously.

"I'll be here when you wake up, okay? Just go to sleep." he murmured, continuing to stroke her forehead as he used to do to Sam when she was sick.

Jess nodded slightly, turning away from him, curling up against him. He looped an arm over her waist, settling down beside her, trying to ignore just how right it felt.


	6. Green Piece

**Title:** Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "To any New Yorker, after 9/11 an explosion of any sort was enough to send them into a blind panic. Even police officers, who were trained to be level headed through the most intense and frightening situations found themselves fearing for their lives when facing explosions." Jess' past comes to haunt her, and Flack wants to be there.  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: This is for anyone who's been affected by 9/11, and all the service men and women (NYPD, FDNY etc) who gave their lives to help. For us Brits, it's different. Heard of the 7/7 bombings? three tubes, one bus, all blown to high heavens. My dad was on the platform of one of the tubes. He was supposed to catch it. He didn't, and he's alive. So yeah, we all have a story.

nice and angsty. But hey, this story's supposed to be dark and twisty, yes?

* * *

Jess pushed through the swarms of people, panic inside her. As soon as the call had come over the radio, her heart had begun thumping wildly, flashbacks to 9/11 coming thick and fast.

_"All units, be advised we have a 10-33." the dispatcher rattled off the address quickly. "Level two mobilisation, 10-85."_

_Jess picked up her radio instantly. "Dispatch, Deterctive Angell, #9251. 10-5?"_

_"10-33, initial units on-scene, 10-85, need additional support. We have a 10-54, injuries from an explosion."_

_"I'm on route, please advise my Lincoln of my 10-20."_

_"10-4,_ _Detective."_

The conversation had been quick, but given her enough information to send a chill through her bones. She'd been informed of an explosion, with injuries. To any New Yorker, after 9/11 an explosion of any sort was enough to send them into a blind panic. Even police officers, who were trained to be level headed through the most intense and frightening situations found themselves fearing for their lives when facing explosions. The things were unbeatable, most times. They couldn't be talked down, or taken out by snipers, or a seasoned cop with a duty weapon. It was only practised, specialist officers who could disarm them, and even that didn't always work.

The suburb street should have been buzzing with the excited voices of children playing, not with reporters, crime-scene units and police screaming instructions and information over the general hubub. Jess flashed her badge to the pale-looking uni at the police tape, who immeadiatley stepped aside to let her duck under the flourescent yellow tape which always made Jess shudder. Her eyes scanned the scene, taking in the remnents of a vehicle, cops moving in every direction, all talking at once, the ambulances treating the injured... the rubble that used to be a building...

0o0o0o0o0o

_The rubble was more than anyone had expected. The dust clouded into the air, choking her, filling her lungs. She tentatively rose from her position, crouching behind a van. It was one of the few that hadn't overturned. For the first time in her police career (short as it may have been), she froze, completely. People were laying in the streets, bleeding from lacerations and blunt force trauma, struck from falling concrete. All that ran through her mind was the faint bang of an explosion, and the soft pop as the rivets let go, the building falling as if in a Hollywood movie. She remembered George Sanchez, her partner for the day, pulling her behind the vehicle, shielding her from the worst of the collapse. But her dark blue uniform was now grey, coated in ash and dust._

_A far away voice in her head reminded her that some of the ash would be human remains, burnt to a cinder in the explosions, maybe of her friends at the FDNY. They laughed together at crime scenes, whilst Jess watched the Detectives do their thing. _

_Pete Young, a fireman she was good friends with. Would he have been in there?_

_She turned left, and saw a woman laying on the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky, mouth twisted into a scream. Half her head was missing, brains smeared across the road on a rock. The red was darker than she'd expected, but still bright against the smokey grey of the road, now coated with ash._

_Jess turned right, and threw her doughnuts and coffee back up onto the pavement._

_0o0o0o0o0o_

"Jess? Jess?"

She jerked back to reality. Stella had approached her, hand on her shoulder, eyes concerned. Jess realised she was gasping for air, as though her lungs were still filled with the ash and dust. Slowly, she focussed on her breathing and tried to slow it down to a regular rhythm. "Uh, yeah. S-Sorry. Uh, what the hell's going on?"

Stella gave her one last look, before facing the wreckage. "Looks like a five-hundred pound explosive, something called Nitromethane. Took out the house, there. Flack's liasing with Agent Richardson from the FBI. One person inside the house, Felix Redman. Caught in the rubble, but seems to be okay. Adam was on-scene at the time, got him out."

Jess' head whipped round to the ambulances, where Adam was being treated by EMTs. Mac was nearby, taking a statement. To her horror, she also saw the OCME taking away a body bag. She fought back the gag reflex, remembering the body of Karen Gardener, her head cracked open like a watermelon. "Who's the DOA?"

"Jane Doe." Stella replied sadly. "We'll try ID her at the morgue, find out if she was dead before or after the explosion."

Jess nodded, watching numbly as Adam was taken away in the ambulance.

"Jess?" Stella asked tentatively. "You okay? You seem sort of shaken."

Angell nodded, not wanting to relive her nightmares, the same ones that had plagued her for years, despite seeing a shrink. "Jus' don't like explosions, I guess."

"None of us do. Flack's pretty riled up."

Jess felt stupid. Why was she so worked up, when she only saw the horrors? Flack _lived _them, having her insides tied together with a shoelace. She knew full well that the incident had troubled him far more than he had let on, the nightmares that had horrified him for months, left with the mass of scar tissue on his abdomen that was a constant reminder of his own mortality, to be faced on a daily basis. She had no _right_ to be afraid. It was pathetic, really.

"I'll bet. I, uh... Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

Stella glanced round for a moment, before shaking her head. "I don't think so. We've got enough cops to take the statements. You on-shift?"

Jess shook her head. "Nope, just got the call over the radio. I'm on the anti-terror task force, but the Captain of that'll call me, breif me if I'm needed."

Stella gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Go home, kid. You look like a ghost. Get some sleep."

* * *

Jess didn't go home.

She knew if she went home and tried to sleep, the nightmares would return.

Like so many NYPD Officers, she'd tried to help when the Towers collapsed. Her conscience was clear for that part. It was the part that came after that filled her with so much guilt that she felt like throwing up.

0o0o0o0o0o

_"Officer, there's nothing you can do!" The FDNY captain held an arm out, blocking her determined path as she tried to get through to the scene. _

_"Jesus Christ! The frickin' World Trade Centre's collapsed _with people inside _and you're worried about me?" she screamed, the anger in her overcoming her panic. She was sorley tempted to punch the Captain in the face and get past him, and deal with the consequences later. _

_He stared her down. "Rescue teams are going in. You'll get in their way. The place is a structural minefield. You could get killed!"_

_"Do I look like I care?" She was in his face now, eyes levelled. "I have friends, in the FDNY, he might be in there! I have a friend who works in the South Tower! I'm not standing around out here while they could be dying!"_

_A Luietenant stepped forawards, sliding between the bickering pair. "Look, Cap... Give us both hats. I'll take her in. I'm trained, I'm going in anyway, and she's gonna get in there somehow... it'll be safer with me."_

_The Captain paused, before nodding. "Fine. Will, she's your problem. If she gets in the way, knock her out, bring her out here. We'll sort it after."_

_Jess bunched up her fist, raising it back, before the Luietenant caught her by the waist, leading her away. "Cool it. Name's Will Morgan."_

_"Jess Angell."_

_"I'd make a joke about falling from heaven, but it'd be in poor taste today." he replied, face sombre. _

_Jess didn't smile. She'd forgotten how._

_0o0o0o0o0o_

Jess went to the hospital. the nurse had told her where to find Adam, and she rapped lightly on the door.

"Yo." came a weary voice from within.

She opened the door to see the lab tech sat on the bed, a gash on his forehead stitched up neatly, a nice bruise developing. He looked tired and scared; the way Jess felt on the inside, she realised. "Hey, Adam. How you doin'?"

"Hey, Angell." he smiled. "I told Mac all I knew, not sure how much else I'll know."

Jess balked, before shaking her head. "No. No, I'm off duty. Just... wanted to see how you are. Y'know."

Adam looked surprised. "Oh. Well, I'm... I'm okay. For someone that's been blown up, anyhow. Better than Felix Redman, I bet, hehe." he gave a nervous chuckle, slightly intimidated by the goddess-like brunette in front of him, who so many cops had the hots for. Who he suspected Flack was at least sleeping with. Well, that was the rumour, anyhow. But he glanced at her face, saw the knotted eyebrows, tensed jaw and worried eyes. "Um... Jess... can I call you Jess?"

"Of course." she smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes.

"Jess... you seem worried. It looks like this is an isolated incident, as far as Hawkes' told me. Doesn't follow the Al Quaeda pattern, anyhow. But... can I help?"

She seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth before shaking her head. "It's okay, I'm fine. Well, if you're okay, I'll be on my way. take care." She turned abruptly, bolting for the door.

Jess sprinted down the hallway, standing in the stairwell, battling the tears pushing in her eyes, half-sobs choking in her throat. It was as if it was all real, all happening again. Every scream ripping through her head, every splattering of blood, every broken and battered body, there in front of her. The fear, the feeling of uselessness, the paralytic panic. It all came rushing back, hitting her harder than it had in the months following the attacks.

She was suddenly aware of two hands gripping her elbows, supporting her as her legs gave way, helping her to sit down on the cold lino steps. A male voice was talking to her in a calm voice, murmuring soothing words as he rubbed her back gently. Nothing which would make Jess spin round and elbow him in the gut, but just enough for her to lean against him, the sobs wracking through her body like a tidal wave.

Slowly, the crying subsided, and she begun to regain some semblence of control over her body. After a few minutes, she turned to her mystery companion. He looked to be a few years older than her, maybe mid-to-late thirties, with reddish brown hair and kind, sympathetic eyes. It was the sympathy that twisted the knife in her gut, the guilt physically hurting her. "I-"

"It's okay." he smiled gently. "Name's Doctor Field, but you can call me Ryan. Talking to crying people's sort of my job."

Jess followed his guesturing hand to the sign where it said '_Psychology_'. "Oh. I'm not... I wasn't..."

"Never thought you were." He replied quickly. "NYPD, right?"

"Detective Angell. Some sort of psycho-analysis, body language thing, doc?" she gave a slight grin.

He laughed. "No, I'm not that good. Your badge."

"Oh," she said again, feeling stupid.

Ryan looked at her. "You wanna tell me why your sat in a stairwell, crying your eyes out?"

She glanced down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. "Um... you heard about the explosion, right?"

"Today? Sure, in the 'burbs. Police said its an isolated event, though." Ryan frowned.

"It is. It's just... Makes me remember. The Towers..." she admitted.

He nodded sympathetically. "Most New Yorkers have some sort of-"

She shook her head impatiently. "No, Doc. I'm a cop, I was _there_. I went inside, tried to rescue..." she stopped, grinding her teeth as she fought back yet more tears. "It's not, I... they're dead, and I-"

"Listen to me, Angell. It's not your fault, none of it. You tried to help, and that makes you incredibly brave-"

"And stupid."

"Maybe a little. But you tried, and that's what counts. Angell, no matter what happened, you tried to help. Oh-" he glanced up, seeing someone approach. Jess kept her head down, not wanting to be seen after so obviously crying. "Detective, hi. Been a while since I've seen you around here."

Jess' cheeks burned. A Detective? That was all she needed. Everyone knew who Angell was, she was one of only a handful of females in the homicide squad, and looking like she did made her infamous in the NYPD.

"Hey, doc. Um... sorry, if you're with a patient..."

Her head jerked up at his voice, like a reflex. As Don's gaze met her red rimmed eyes, he moved forwards automatically, dropping to his knees, taking her face in his hands. "Jess? What... What's happened? Are you okay?"

His hands felt comforting and warm against her face, and she allowed the tears to fall, relapsing into her previous state.

Dr Field watched as Don pulled Angell effortlessly forwards, and onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. His eyes were wide with shock and worry, but he spoke calmly to her, coaxing her gently. He could've left them to it, but if he was right about Jess, she was going to need some help, and Detective Flack may have been just the person to give it to her.

0o0o0o0o0o

_"Follow me, okay? Jess, you listenin'?" Will's voice snapped her attention back, forcing her to look ahead, not at the wreckage around them. _

_"Uh, yeah. Yeah, 'm listenin'." she replied. "I just... I-"_

_"I know." he cut her off, empathising. "So, who's your friend in the FDNY? The one you're riskin' your ass in here to see if he's in here."_

_"Pete. Pete Young. He, uh... was at a coupl'a my scenes, we got chatting. Good friend, actually."_

_Will nodded, the light attatched to his helmet bobbing. "Yeah, I know him. Hey, you wouldn't be the Jess he keeps talkin' 'bout all the time, would you? The one with enough brothers to beat the hell outta him?"_

_She chuckled. "Nah. I've sparred with Pete. _I _could beat the hell outta him."_

_"Jess, he lets you win. You seen the size a'Pete? He could take on bouncers and win."_

_"So could I! They're slow, and full a'steroids. Feint left, duck right and slug 'em with a right hook to the jaw, and a kick to the-"_

_"Jess, he lets you win cause he likes you." Will exclaimed in exasperation. "Jeez! We all wondered why he didn't ask you out, but after spending ten freakin' minutes with you, I realise he probably did, you just didn't realise. For a smart person, you're pretty dumb at times."_

_Jess was about to respond, before her eye caught something, and she turned to look, her headlamp illuminating the twisted body in front of her. "Oh, oh God... Will! Will, get over here, now!"_

_Will shuffled back, shoulders rounded against the debris which was all around them. His face was streaked with ash and sweat, filled with worry. "What? Oh-" He followed Jess' gaze to where Will was laying, blood spreading from his thigh at a rapid rate where a long shard of metal had become lodged. "Jess! Check for a pulse, I'm gonna try put his leg back together..."_

_Jess' shaking fingers sought out her friends neck, and pressed against it. She gasped as she felt he blood flow, albeit weak. "I've got it! Barely there, but..."_

_"Check breathing," Will instructed. "Damnit. Shards pierced the femoral artery... You got a bootlace?"_

_Jess nodded, fumbling slightly as she passed it to the fireman. "He's breathing."_

_"Good, make sure he stays that way. If he needs CPR, can you do it?"_

_"I'm a cop. I know CP-freaking-R!" she shot back, the hysteria beginning to set in._

_Will ignored her, trying to feel through the blood around the metal for the artery walls, not wanting to remove the shard until he could fix the torn artery, as Pete would only have a couple of minutes until he bled out. "Damnit!"_

_Jess watched him warily. "What?"_

_"Everytime I try get hold of it, it shrinks up into the groin." Will muttered, frowning in concentration. "I just need... Come here."_

_Jess looked confused. "But, I thought-"_

_"Look around, Jess. You don't have time to think. The goddamn World Trade Centre's collapsed. Now, if you want to help me save his life, come here."_

_She moved obediebtly._

_"Right, you squeamish?"_

_"Not hardly."_

_"Good." He held her fingers lightly, guiding them through the deep laceration and up towards Pete's groin. "Feel that? That's part of the arterial wall. Hold onto it. Do not let go, you hear me?"_

_She nodded. "I hear ya."_

_Will moved his fangers, working quickly to secure as much of the tear as he could before he removed the metal, so there was less to do in the short space of time he had available. It was unfortunate that the only equipment he had with him was a rudimentary field kit, with a needle, thread and some superglue. In this situation, he felt superglue was going to be the quickest option. the hospital could dead with the infection once they were all out of there. Once he'd repaired as much damage as he could, he turned to Jess, grimacing. "Okay, I'm gonna pull the metal out, an' I want you to hold on tight, and pull the artery down to me, okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_"On three, one, two... three!"_

_They worked quickly, pulling, glueing and soaking up the steady stream of blood in silence for a few minutes, until Will sat back with a sigh of relief. Jess grinned as she pressed her fingers to Pete's neck. "Pulse's there. A little stronger now."_

_Will beamed in response. "See, I told ya-"_

_Something caught Jess' eye. The beam above them, swaying precariously, about to - "Look out!" she screamed._

_Will tried to move, but it was too late. The beam fell, crushing his chest in an instant. Jess screamed again, horrified at what she was seeing. Her first instinct was to run, but she swallowed it, moving to where Will's head was. She leaned forwards, pinching his nose and covering his mouth with hers, giving two short puffs._

_If she could keep him alive, maybe things would be okay._

_0o0o0o0o0o_

Dr Field had moved them both to a patient room, instructing Jess to sit on the bed. "Now, Jess... I think you may have a case of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder, commonly known as PTSD. It's a disorder-"

"I know what it is, Doc. I'm a cop. We have a departmental shrink, even if his head _is _up his ass." She replied scathingly.

"Well-" he glanced hesitantly towards Flack, who was leaning against the door, casually blocking the window so that no-one could see in. "Do you mind if I tell her?"

"Go ahead."

Ryan turned to Jess. "I know how cops feel about shrinks. But you need to talk to _someone_, otherwise this isn't going to go away. Now... After the bombing, Flack also suffered from PTSD."

Jess didn't give any reaction. She'd known about the nightmares, of course, but never thought anything of it. Her Dad used to tell her that as a cop, the day you stop having nightmares about what you see is the day you should retire.

Flack shrugged. "Look, Jess... I know how you feel, alright? It's a weakness, it's shameful, etc. But listen to me, it's not your fault and it will eat you alive if you don't conquer this, okay? So just... tell me what happened. Talk to me."

So she did. Everything.

0o0o0o0o0o

_"Breathe, Will!" Jess screamed at the lifeless figure in front of her, cradling the firefighter's head in her lap. "Breathe!"_

_A light flashed past, shouts echoing in the wreckage. But she ignored them, focussing instead on the two casualties in front of her._

_Pete had stopped breathing also. She'd taken it in turnes for their CPR, two minutes a'piece. She was scared. Because neither of them would wake up. Neither of them would breathe._

_"Officer Angell!"_

_She vaguely recognised the firefighter in front of her, eyes widened as he took in her disheveled appearance. The uniform and protective gear that Will had leant her was now covered in blood, smeared with reddish brown stains, just like everything else around them._

_"Angell, you alright? Are you hurt?"_

_"They won't breathe..." she whispered._

_He reached forwards, twisting her arm as he yanked her away from the bodies, pulling her closely to him as he guided her towards the glimmers of daylight. "It's okay, I gotcha."_

_"They won't breathe..." she repeated, feeling numb._

_The Captain greeted her as she blinked rapidly, stumbling in the harsh light. "Officer Angell, I'm glad-"_

_"They won't breathe..." she insisted._

_"Who?"_

_"Will and Pete." The firefighter explained bleakly._

_The Captain nodded. "Okay, Angell. It's okay. You're a hero, okay?"_

_"No." she whispered to herself. "No, I'm not._

_0o0o0o0o0o0o_

"It's not you fault, Jess." Flack told her sincerely when they arrived back at her apartment. "You did everything you could."

"Will's dead because of me." she reminded him.

He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Jessica, it is not your fault. You don't think Will'd have gone in there anyway? You tried, and that's all that matters. It is _not _your fault."

They both jumped as his cellphone rang loudly.

"Danno." he greeted his friend.

_"ImarriedMontana."_

"Huh? Say that again, slowly."

_"I married Montana. Lindsay."_

_"_What?" Shock ran though his body like ice water.

"_Look, I'm sorry you weren't there, neither was the doc. But... I love her, man. All I want is her. So-"_

_"_No, I'm happy for you, really." Flack insisted, one hand still holding Jess' shoulder. "Uh... congratulations." He mouthed _one sec _to Jess, and headed for her bathroom, familliar with the layout.

_"You wanna come for a drink?"_

_"_Can't." he sighed. "Uh... a little busy at the moment."

_"Girl problems?"_

"Jess problems."

"_Good luck, brother."_

_"_Yeah. Congratulations, bud. My best to Mrs Messer."

Jess looked startled as she strode back into the room, locking his hand around the back of her neck and kissing her deeply, his tongue tracing the line of her mouth. Her arms reached up, locking around his neck as his slid to her waist, pulling her tightly against him. And she knew that things would be okay. Not great, happily ever after, but okay. better. Because the kiss wasn't the anger it usually was. It was filled with hope and passion as he leaned into it, walking her back against the wall. There was something different.

So yes, the nightmares would come.

But he would be there.


	7. Point of No Return

**Title:** Cowards  
**Rating**: Strong T, for some strong language.  
**Pairing**: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay  
**Summary**: "Any cop family knew the unofficial rules and beauracracies of the precinct, and he knew that Jess was breaking the vast majority when it came to those aimed at female cops" Jess runs into her brother, Stella proves why a she's a detective, and Jess realises things with Flack could get very complicated...  
**Disclaimer**: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.

**A/N**: I know! It's ben forever, and I'm terrible. But my CSI:NY muse has gone walkabouts, and instead I've been plagued by Nikita, Rookie Blue, Grey's Anatomy... Plus in RL, I'm obscenely busy. Wanna be a doctor an' all that jazz...

PLEASE review :)

* * *

Jess was treading lightly around her new relationship with Don. After all the heartbreak and pain they'd both been through, it felt strange to be together. Of course, she was all too clear on the fact that everything had to stay _out _of the precinct, and if there was so much as a sly comment that seemed a little too well-based, she would end things. He hadn't reacted much to her rules, simply nodding his head. He wanted to be with her, and knew that keeping it a secret was the price he would have to pay - a relatively small one, in comparison to what he was gaining. It was no great hardship keeping things from Danny; the pair had steadily grown apart thanks to his friend working more closely with Hawkes (who understoood and outdid Danny in the science) and his relationship - no, marriage - to Lindsay. Though Don used to rely heavily on Danny as a friend and confidant, he realised over the past year or so - mostly since Ruben sandoval's death and Danny going all to hell - he'd mainly counted on Jess as his support, his rock through everything, including all the crap with his sister.

Jess herself was slightly thrown by how normal the relationship felt. It didn't feel wierd moving from friends and co-workers to lovers, it felt strange that it _didn't. _It was nice to have the freedom to call at last minute thanks to getting a break in a case and cancel plans without getting an earful of abuse to add to her guilt. No, Flack merely asked about the breakthrough, then offered either a bottle of wine whenever she finished, or not to bother her and let her get some sleep.

The sweetest thing he'd done was switch their shifts after she'd suffered through a particularly demanding double, ending six hours previously. He'd called the Luietenant, who'd agreed to adjust the duty roster after Don invented a story about a sick elderly neighbor of Jess', who relied heavily on the Detective. It was nothing particularly thoughtful, just a casual guesture when he noticed she was tired. But it still counted.

There was one thing that was holding her back. She'd promised Stella that she would not breathe a word of it to anyone, Mac nor anyone at the precinct. But keeping it from Don... when she'd agreed, the pair had barely been on speaking terms, but now she was sleeping in his bed almost every night, allowing him closer than she'd every let anyone, emotionally at least. It was chewing her up inside, and she needed to do something about it.

"Jess."

She glanced up at the sound of the raspy voice to see her youngest older brother grinning at her, aviater shades hiding his probably hungover eyes. Mikey was thirty one going on seventeen; out drinking most nights, trying to make it as a 'musician' and sponging off their parents to pay his rent between bartending jobs. He was probably the most attractive of her brothers, with the slightly overgrown dark hair, constant stubble thanks to his hatred of shaving and a cheeky smile. He was tall, at 6'0'' with squared off shoulders and powerful arms, which usually ended in some airhead hanging from his arm. She glanced around, but saw that he was alone, and smiled warmly at him. "Hey, Mike. No blonde bombshell?"

"She's at my place." he smirked.

"Ain't no rest for the wicked, huh?" she replied.

"Damned straight. C'mere, J." Mikey pulled her up into a tight hug. "How you been?"

"Ah, y'know. Bustin' bad guys, fightin' crime..." she replied as though her job was very blase.

He chuckled, releasing her from the embrace. "Uh-huh. Vey cool, sis. Now, I'll do the mom routin soyou can practice for when she calls you next, okay?"

Jess laughed, knowing her mothers penchent for asking questions revoling around her personal life, or lack thereof. "'kay. Go."

"Have they given you a promotion yet?" he asked in falsetto voice that sounded nothing like Cherie Angell.

"I wish."

"Have you been hurt yet?"

Jess tilted her head to oe side. "For you, I got knocked against wall on a subway train which hurt, and all banged up on a takedown, but for mom, no."

"Ha." Mike snorted, before regaining composure. "Ok... Are you keeping up to your hair? It's so lovely when you-"

"I'm thinking of getting bangs. But it's still the same colour, for now. But I might go lighter."

"Cue a dozen questions regarding shade... Then, You're not still wearing those god awful jeans with the holes in, are you?"

Jess glanced down at her favourite pair of jeans with two holes in the knee where they'd worn through. In all fairness, she'd had them since she was twenty-one, and they'd served her well. "Hey! Lay off the jeans!"

"Ai'ight." Mike waved, wincing at her raised tone. _Definately hungover_. "Um... Have you called your Auntie Marie yet? You know she loves to hear from you"

"Yes, mom. I did it last night."

"You did?"

"No."

"Oooh. Okay, now for the inevitable... have you found a nice boy?"

Jess paused for a beat, bfore answering slowly. "Kind of... I think."

Michael's eyebrows shot up, and Jess grimaced, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Mike was by far the most unreasonable of her brothers when it came to her flings (she didn't use the word boyfriend, as she rarely used them for more than the obvious. dates were pointless when you dumped them in favour of a dead body) so she knew that if she could get her Michae to approve of Don, the others would soon follow suit. Her mother would be enchanted by Don - all women were - so there would only be her father left to deal with. But Cliff was fair and a cop, so no doubt Don would be fully capable of impessing him.

"You think?" Michael repeated.

"Well... Yes. His name's Don, and... he's a Detective in my squad. Outranks me." she admitted, the words sounding worse once she'd said them out loud.

Mike winced. Any cop family knew the unofficial rules and beauracracies of the precinct, and he knew that Jess was breaking the vast majority when it came to those aimed at female cops. "Jessica... he doesn't have any swing with the promotion grid, does he? I'm not saying your... sleeping your way up the chain," he added quickly, seeing the expression on her face. "But that's how it'd look."

"He doesn't." replied Jess curtly. "Remember the reason I got promoted?"

"Detective got blown up?"

"Yeah. It was Don. Don Flack."

"_Flack_?" Michael spluttered.

Jess nodded, a frown settling on her face. "Yeah. What's the problem?"

"Jess... You were young, you didn't go to the precinct when Dad worked Narc so much. But he went for a job with Homicide, and one of the cops - coupl'a grades above Dad - promised he'd do everything he could to help him out, y'know? Anyway, he didn't get the job,then the guy transfers out. Dad finds out from the Cap that the guy screwed him over, got the job himself. Dad got the job eventually, but the guy already had them wrapped around his finger, feet well under that table, y'know?" Michael explained carefully.

"Flack Sr.?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. _Shit._"

He looped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her upper arm reassuringly. "Sorry, kid."

"I go for happy ever after, miss and land with Romeo and frickin' Juliet." she growled. "Look... Don's not like his Dad, okay? I found out that he actually suggested me for a job a month or so before he got blown up. Even though I didn't get that job, he was the one that put me on Homicide's radar. He's a good guy, Mike." she told him, her eyes pleading for him to believe her. "He's coming to mine next Friday, after his shift, okay? Come round, meet him. Judge for yourself. If you disapprove, I'll stop seeing him."

"No you won't!" Mike laughed.

"No, I won't." she agreed immeadiately. "But its the thought that counts."

He studied her for a moment, before nodding. "Alright, kid. I'll be there at eight, so you'd better still be wearing clothes."

"I make no promises." she shrugged, standing up and hugging him warmly. "Bye, Mike."

"Take care, sis." he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple and ruffling her hair as she strode away, whistling absent mindedly to himself.

* * *

Jess glanced back at Stella as the older woman pulled away from the sidewalk, manouevering the car back into traffic. "Stell, I know you don't want anyone to know, but this is my day off, and Don knows my routine. I cancelled lunch with him, and he's going to guess something. As much as I want to help, if he asks-"

"I'm not asking you to lie to him, Jess." Stella assured her with a smile. "You going to tell me what's going on between you two?"

Jess chewed her lower lip. She didn't want anyone knowing about their relationship, partly because she didn't want people to presume that she was trying to sleep her way up the ranks, and partly because she was afraid. Their relationship already had been turbulant to say the least, and the last thing she needed was to be told how to act by a bunch of busybodies. She knew that Stella wouldn't fall into this category, but she was liable to tease Flack automatically as she so oftern did, and if Danny happened to hear... they would all be screwed.

"C'mon, Jess. I'm not blind." continued Stella with a slight chuckle. "I see the way he looks at you. 'Sides, you think the watercooler ever shuts up at your precinct with Vicaro and Thacker around? Not to mention Maka. I think Kaile might actually be taking bets on how long it'll be 'till the two of you hook up."

Jess flushed red, thoroughly mortified by the conversation. "Look... As far as anyone else is concerned, there's nothing whatsoever going on."

"And me?"

"Well... we, ah... kissed-"

"Knew it!"

"And slept together last week. So, um... yeah, something. But no details, and no telling anyone. Including Mac." she added quickly. There was going to be no grey areas, therefore no possible leaks.

"Okay." Stella nodded. "Can I just say that I'm pleased for you? You two are good together, really."

Jess blushed, tugging at the hem of her jacket. "Yeah, well. I... If anyone at the precinct... I don't want people thinking I'm trying to sleep my way up the chain. Because I'm not."

"I know." Stella chuckled. "Flack doesn't have much pull anyway. If you were-"

"Don't wanna think about it." Jess cut her off, not wanting to think about her superiors in any such way.

Stella paused, before leaning over in a conspirital fashion. "This is creepy and nosy, but I have got to ask... Flack has a... _reputation_ shall I say-"

"Yes." Jess smirked. "He's better than they say."

Stella gave a low whistle. "If I didn't know the guy, a few years back I might have - y'know, never mind." she finished quickly, frowning as she considered what she was saying, and who she was saying it to.

Jess chuckled. "Stell, we never said anything about official, or mutual. For all I know he's sleeping with Maka. Lord knows she wouldn't mind, the way she fawns over him..."

If it were anyone else, Stella would've thought that the comment was meant rudely, but Jess and Kaile were allies, and she also knew that Maka was too observant to believe she had a chance with Flack; everyone knew he only had eyes for Jess. So Stella merely smiled, turning her attention back to the road. "I'm happy for you both."

Jess bit back the irritating grin that seemed to tver as soon as she though of Flack these days. He was a git, annoying and downrigt infuriating sixty percent of the time, but she could deal with it. "Yeah, thanks."

Stella approved. Now all she had to do was get Mike to.


End file.
